


Non-Necessity

by AvecPlaisir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvecPlaisir/pseuds/AvecPlaisir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Sirius left home, Remus came by to check in on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non-Necessity

Remus was not very fond of the summer holidays, and there were several reasons why.

One was that it was hot a great deal of the time, and Remus’s mother owned a garden that she loved, and that Remus’s mother also owned a son that she loved—it was he, Remus—with whom she enjoyed spending time. Those facts together meant that Remus spent a significant amount of his time outside in the hot sun with his mother, who asked him questions like, ‘ _Why don’t you invite your friends over, dear_?’ or _‘Do you think the new potion by Whosit Whatsit—_ the potion was undoubtedly named something ridiculously fatalistic like ‘Werewolf Death’ or ‘Wolfend’ or ‘The Cure’— _will finally be what we’re looking for?’_

It’s not that Remus minded his mother. He actually quite liked her. He also didn’t mind gardening. He minded getting sunburned, but a liberal amount of sunscreen took care of that problem. No—it was that in spending days and nights with his fellow Marauders, Remus had grown used to the subtle expressions of emotions, the pat on the shoulder, the half-hearted ‘Alright, Remus?’ or wicked smiles, flashing of eyes, rash action. Sure, Remus could fully expect a Marauder to avenge him with a Bat-Bogey hex, or to, say, illegally undertake the very dangerous enterprise of becoming animagi when confronted with the fact that Remus Lupin was a Dark Creature. But words? Talking thoughtfully? Direct questions about sensitive issues in a caring tone completely free of judgment, only full of love?

Remus bowed his head, and pulled weeds and tried to answer his mother’s questions while fighting off Feelings.

Another reason that Remus disliked the summer holidays was that his friends were Elsewhere.

James and Peter usually could be counted on going away for holiday. Peter normally went most of the summer—his parents liked to travel, and didn’t like to leave Peter alone for so long, and Peter wasn’t one to protest trips to foreign, exotic places like India or Canada. James usually only went away for a week or so—he had family somewhere not in Britain. But even when James was home, he wasn’t exactly keen on writing letters. They would exchange a few about the weather, Quidditch, or plans for next year. But eventually James stopped responding and Remus didn’t like to push.

Sirius, for whatever reason, responded to his first letters quickly and consistently. However, somewhere around third year, Sirius warned him not to send letters any more. His mother, he said, had fixed the owls and the wards around the house to not let in owls from a werewolf, because he, Sirius, had divulged that Remus was one in a fit of rage.

“Sorry,” Sirius apologized.

Remus forgave him, because Sirius had seemed genuinely apologetic (which was a rare thing to witness) and because Sirius assured him that his mother would tell no one at the school.

“She knows we’re mates,” Sirius had said. “And that other people know we’re mates. She doesn’t want to bring attention to the fact that her son is mates with a werewolf.”

However, despite the fact that Remus could not write Sirius, Sirius continued to write Remus. Little notes that contained dirty jokes, or sometimes he would send pictures of his mother, taken when she had been unaware. They were surprisingly human photos—something Remus had to admit he had not expected. After all, his only source of information he'd had about her had been Sirius’s tales—usually told when Sirius was angry, or upset, and which were never positive.

‘ _I want to get a muggle bike when I’m older_ ,’ Sirius wrote once. ‘ _And charm it to fly. Then I can travel the world like Wormtail. You’ll come won’t you, Moony?’_

Remus had stared at the words, feeling elated, and frustrated. He wanted to answer, _yes, of course, I suspect I’d follow you to our early graves, you git_ but he remained silent because he could not write back. Because that was not the sort of thing you brought up once school started— _Padfoot, old friend, remember that invitation you gave me to travel the world with you?_ Because he was a lowly Dark Creature and Sirius was a Black, and as Sirius’s mother was keen to remind everyone involved, their lives did not belong together.

 

***

 

It was because of Sirius’s letters that Remus was at Sirius’s house, now. Over the years, Sirius’s letters had become increasingly erratic, sent at different times of the day and night, sometimes containing only one word— _Fuck, Regulus, Moon, Moony._ Sometimes he sent longer letters talking about a bug he’d found, or a spot of dirt on his shoe, or what he’d had for dinner. These letters were more difficult to decipher than the one-word ones. In general, Sirius’s letters were getting darker and shorter, and he talked less and less about his emotions, which Remus knew was a sign that Sirius was having Emotions He Didn’t Want to Share. Which worried Remus, who was very familiar with both how much Sirius hated his home, and how talkative Sirius could be when he was happy.

Still, Remus Lupin stood outside of Number 12 Grimmauld Place wondering if he was perhaps as deranged as the rest of his friends. There was a distinct possibility that this was a very bad idea.

 

***

 

A house-elf answered the door, which made it the first time Remus had seen a house-elf in some-one’s personal home. The house-elf was particularly ugly, and, it seemed, particularly unpleasant. It called itself Kreacher and leered at Remus, demanding what he wanted. A woman’s voice from somewhere deeper in the house had Kreacher bowing, with an “Of course, Mistress,” and a sideways glance at Remus.

“Follow Kreacher,” Kreacher commanded.

Remus didn’t really want to follow Kreacher. He wanted to find Sirius. However, he didn’t seem to have much choice in the matter.

He gasped as he stepped through the doorway. It felt as though invisible shards of glass were piercing his skin. He looked down and saw that his shirt was suddenly bloody.

Kreacher gave a chortle and led him to some sort of sitting room.

Inside, a woman who could only be Sirius’s mother sat with a cup of tea and a large book. She looked up when they entered.

‘This half-blood has come to see the Mistress,” Kreacher croaked, bowing very low.

Mrs. Black examined Remus coldly.

“Who are you?” she asked

Remus cleared his throat.

“I’m Remus Lupin,” he said.

Mrs. Black’s eyes widened slightly, then narrowed considerably.

“You are dismissed, Kreacher,” she told the house-elf, who bowed out of the room.

Mrs. Black stared at Remus and made no move to speak. Remus, who had half been expecting to be asked to sit, cleared his throat again.

 “Er,” Remus hesitated. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Black, but I didn’t actually come to see you—”

Mrs. Black held up her hand.

“No,” she agreed, mouth curling unpleasantly. “You came to see my son. A half-blood _werewolf_ ,” she spat the words. “In my house. To see _my_ _son_.”

Remus winced at the viciousness of her tone. He felt as though he were being pierced in a different way.

“I—,” he started to say.

“ _Do not speak_!” she hissed, standing suddenly.

Remus gulped.

“Do not ever come to my house again,” she continued, advancing on him, wand raised. “Do not speak to my son. Do not think for a moment that a beast like you could ever be worth anything to a Black.”

Remus, who had been backed into the wall, stared at her wide-eyed, mouth dry.

“I will teach you proper respect,” hissed Mrs. Black, pressing the tip of her wand painfully into his neck.

Remus was aware only of the pain. He didn’t realize that he had been screaming until the sound stopped. He fell, panting, to his knees.

“Mother!” Someone yelled.

Remus recognized that voice, he knew, but his thoughts didn’t go much further. He was being pulled to his feet. He blinked. Sirius was there. In front of him. Ashen-faced. Jaw set. Wand raised.

“Do you see what _filth_ you have dragged into our house?” his mother demanded.

“The only filth here is _you_ , Mother.”

“How _dare_ you--!”

Sirius did not wait for her to finish her sentence. He grabbed Remus roughly by the arm and dragged him upstairs.

“Sirius,” Remus blinked, stumbling on the steps. “Are you alright?”

Sirius stared at him incredulously over his shoulder. “Am _I_ alright? You’re the one with blood all over your bloody clothes.”

“It was your doorway,” Remus remembered vaguely, though he was sure it had only happened just a moment ago. “I’m a half-blood.”

Sirius’s expression was cold. “What the bloody hell were you thinking? Coming here?”

“I--,” Remus faltered. He didn’t have a good explanation. He had been worried, but he couldn’t very well say that.

“In here,” Sirius said roughly, opening a door and pushing him inside. As he went, Remus caught a glimpse of eyes from the other end of the hallway. Eyes extraordinarily like Sirius’s, set in a face that was younger, and not-quite-as handsome. A face that watched him, expressionless.

Sirius followed his gaze and scowled.

“What, Regulus?”

Regulus looked down the hallway.

“Why can’t you just do what she tells you?” he asked, frowning.

“Because I’m not _insane_ ,” snapped Sirius.

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” Regulus said. “Just because you’re in love with him.”

Sirius slammed the door and spelled it locked. Remus realized that he was in Sirius’s room.

He had little time to marvel at the sheer uniqueness of the room in the Black house—it was so unlike the rest of the house—because Sirius had pulled out a suitcase and was throwing his stuff into it.

“Sirius,” said Remus slowly. “What are you doing?”

“Packing, Moony, what does it look like?”

“Packing?” Remus said, who was feeling very sick. “Why are you packing?”

“Because I’m leaving.”

“You—,” Remus watched Sirius search under the bed for something. “You don’t have to leave just because your mother did that to me.”

Sirius looked at him. “That’s not why,” he said.

Remus swallowed. “Where are you going to stay?” he asked.

Sirius shrugged. “With Prongs, I expect.”

“I shouldn’t have come,” realized Remus.

Sirius placed both hands on his shoulders.

“No,” he agreed. “You shouldn’t have.”

“FILTH!”

“And that’s our cue to leave,” muttered Sirius. “Wand out, Moony.”

“But we’re underage,” protested Remus.

Sirius shot him a look, then took his hand.

“BLOOD TRAITOR!” screamed Sirius’s mother, as they made their way downstairs. “DISGRACE! YOU—!” Her eyes bulged as they caught sight of Sirius, suitcase in one hand, Remus’s hand in the other. “ _YOU_ \--!”

“Yes, me, your own personal disappointment.”

“I REGRET THE DAY YOU WERE BORN!”

“That makes two of us.”

“YOU ARE NO SON OF MINE!”

“Exactly. Goodbye, Mother.”

Sirius’s mother—wild-eyed, hair escaping from its perfect bun—sent a silent curse, but Sirius was ready for it. He pushed Remus behind him and blocked it with a slice of his wand.

“DON’T EVER SHOW YOUR FACE HERE AGAIN!” screamed his mother.

This time, Sirius screamed back.

“I DON’T PLAN ON IT!”

And with that, Sirius dragged Remus and his suitcase out of his house and into the street. Remus winced as more invisible shards bit into his flesh.

***

James Potter, cheerfully bespeckled, grinned at them over his glass of lemonade.

“Now, tell me again, Padfoot,” he said, “because I’m a bit thick.”

Remus snorted under his breath. There were a lot of things you could call James Potter, but ‘thick’ wasn’t one of them.

“How many trolls did you come across on the way here?”

Sirius scowled. The hurried escape from his house and the subsequent trip on the Knight Bus had left his hair messy and inelegant—two things that Sirius Black was never.

“Sod off, Prongs,” Sirius grumbled. But his scowl was quickly replaced by a grin, and the two were soon engaged in a wrestling match on the grass.

Mr. Potter shook his head. “The nick-names you lot have for each other….What the hell is a pad foot? And Prongs? Is he a fork?”

“Are you well, Remus?” Mrs. Potter asked kindly.

“Yes, thank you,” said Remus.

Mr. Potter peered at him from over his newspaper.

“You look a bit peaky.”

Remus cleared his throat.

“And your parents?” asked Mrs. Potter.

“Well, thank you.”

“Tell them I said hello,” said Mrs. Potter.

“I will. Actually,” Remus stood. “I should be getting back. They don’t know where I went.”

Mr. Potter waved at him.

“Oi! Moony!” called Sirius, from under James, who was sitting on him. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

"And Moony," grumbled Mr. Potter, shaking out his newspaper. "Like he's drunk....."

“I’m afraid I am, Padfoot,” Remus said gravely, approaching them. 

“Bollocks,” said James. “You just got here.”

“Yes," replied Remus calmly, "but you’re forgetting that _I_ did not run away from _my_ home. My parents will be worried.”

“Nice trick, by the way,” growled James, cuffing Sirius on the head. “You should have sodding told _me_ that you wanted out. I would have busted you out, wanker. Instead you let Moony get beat up by your doorframe.”

“I didn’t tell Moony,” said Sirius. “He figured it out.”

“Well, actually,” protested Remus. “I was just checking in.”

Sirius’s grinned up at him.

“You figured it out more than this git,” he said, jerking his thumb at James.

“Well,” said Remus, looking down. “Glad you’re happy. Parents to un-worry. Must be off.”

“Wait!” Sirius cried, struggling out from under James. He took Remus by the shoulders. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said.

Remus felt his face heat up. “I know,” he said sourly. “I’m sorry.”

“No—I meant. You shouldn’t have, and I’m so, so sorry my mother and my former house hurt you." He paused, and squeezed Remus's shoulders. "But I’m glad you did.”

Remus blinked.

“And now you can write me back, yeah?” Sirius said, letting go. He was smiling.

Remus echoed his smile. He could write back.

 

 


End file.
